


Happy Birthday, Angel

by CousinSerena



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Birthday Cake, Birthday Party, Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Fluff, Just a bit of silly birthday fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Sad Aziraphale (Good Omens), Surprise Party, Worried Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 12:01:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20929895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CousinSerena/pseuds/CousinSerena
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale are guests at Adam’s 12th birthday party. Aziraphale realizes how wonderful birthdays are, and that in all the millennia he’s been on Earth, he’s never had his own birthday party.  His reaction worries Crowley and The Them, and a plan is formed to cheer up their sad angel.  Mild angst with a generous serving of fluff.





	Happy Birthday, Angel

Adam, Pepper, Brian and Wensleydale sat at the dining table at the Young household one late August afternoon, scraping icing off the bottom of the cake plate. Balloons and wrapping paper were strewn about the place. They’d just celebrated Adam’s 12th birthday, and Aziraphale and Crowley had been invited. Crowley lounged near the end of the table, having moved very little the whole time. Aziraphale flitted about, chatting with Mr. and Mrs. Young and the children. The party had been a success, remnants of pizza and cake everywhere. The two supernatural guests had enjoyed themselves, despite Crowley heaving a dramatic sigh when they’d received the invitation— “Children’s parties, ugh.” In fact, he became quite animated and smiled every time one of the children spoke to him. He liked kids, he just couldn’t let on too much. Of course Aziraphale had enjoyed his fill of cake (lemon with mounds of vanilla icing), and Crowley had enjoyed watching Aziraphale eat it.

They’d each brought a small gift, not wanting to miracle up a bicycle or something that would outshine his own parents’ gift. They’d gotten him a new mobile phone. Aziraphale gave Adam a first edition _Tom Swift_ novel (which was saying something, since the last bewildered customer who tried to buy it ended up out on the sidewalk due to some manufactured emergency). Despite the book being an American science fiction tale for children, he wasn’t going to part with a first edition for a mere customer.

“Thanks, Uncle Zira,” Adam said. “You know, a lot of the futuristic inventions in these books became true later.”

“Actually,” contributed Wensleydale, “_lots_ of early science fiction is scientific fact now.”

“That’s what I said!”

Aziraphale smiled, pleased that his present had been well received and generated conversation.

Crowley gave Adam a Venus flytrap plant along with instructions on how to care for it. He demonstrated by taking off his glasses and glaring at it.

“Now listen here, plant, you’re going to grow nicely for this young man or I _will_ come over and rip you out of that pot and tear you to pieces. _Understand_?” he growled. Adam swore he saw the leaves shake.

Crowley replaced his glasses and turned to the erstwhile Antichrist. “See, it’s not all just about feeding them. Talking to plants helps them grow, you know. It’s in all the gardening books.”

“Yes, um, well, thanks Uncle Crowley,” he said. “But it’ll be fun watching it eat houseflies, too.”

“That’s my boy!” He peered over his glasses and winked at Adam.

Wensleydale ran up to them to have a look. “Fascinating,” he remarked. “_Dionaea muscipula_. Actually it’s native to the East Coast of the United States.”

Then the boy turned to Aziraphale. “Also, I do think your magic is improving, Mr. Fell. I didn’t even see the coin coming out of your sleeve this time.” 

“Oh, why thank you, young man.” The angel wasn’t sure whether to feel pleased or insulted.

“Here, angel, take a picture of the kids,” Crowley said, suddenly reaching out and handing the angel his mobile phone.

Aziraphale reacted with mild panic. 

“Oh, er, yes. The mobile telephone device. With a camera. How do you do it again?” He kept pushing buttons until he’d managed to activate several apps and then take a picture of his hand. Crowley just watched the whole time, laughing, until the angel ran over and forced it back into his hands.

“Here, I’ll never get the hang of this newfangled thing. Why can’t a phone simply be a phone? And don’t think I don’t know you were having a bit of fun at my expense, demon. That was _not_ nice,” he added, trying to look stern and failing.

“Oh, I’m sure Mr. Crowley doesn’t quite warrant being called ‘demon,’ Mr. Fell,” chided Adam’s mother, gliding over as she began to collect dishes. “Though I’ll warrant he is a bit mischievous, that one,” she said, winking at Crowley.

“Me?” Crowley protested.

“You, indeed,” she said. “Poor Mr. Fell, he just hasn’t embraced modern technology—him being a man of books.” She wagged her finger at Crowley. “You mustn’t tease him so.” She then beamed at the demon. “Is there anything I can get you, dear? Some cake? You’ve hardly eaten.”

Crowley grinned triumphantly at Aziraphale, who sighed and began helping collect dirty plates.

“No thank you, Mrs. Young. I couldn’t eat another bite. I’ll just rest a bit, if it’s all right.”

“Oh, call me Deirdre, love. We’re practically family. You just relax, dear. Mr. Fell and I will tidy things up.” She bustled off to chase Dog away from a bit of cake that had fallen on the floor.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Deirdre, indeed,” he muttered under his breath.

Crowley grinned. “You’re just jealous.” He lounged as he watched the angel gathering plates.

“Bit tiring being uncles, eh angel?”

They weren’t really Adam’s uncles, of course, but after thwarting Armageddon, they’d become as good as such. Adam’s parents thought they were an eccentric gay couple and had an odd idea that Aziraphale was a librarian at Adam’s school. Adam had done nothing to dissuade them of this, and his mother had them over for tea once a week, each Thursday. 

The Youngs had been a bit wary of Crowley at first, both agreeing you couldn’t quite trust a person who never removed his sunglasses. But then Adam explained his mysterious incurable eye condition and then his mother did a complete turnaround and fussed over him, with a great deal of “Poor Mr. Crowley” when she thought he couldn’t hear. Crowley enjoyed playing this up to his advantage.

“You know, you could just stealthily miracle away the mess, angel.”

“What would be the fun in that? And would you hand me that plate, my dear?”

“Fun? I’ll never understand your definition of fun, Zira. Books and cleaning?”

“Those aren’t the only things I find fun,” he smiled.

Pepper and Brian who were standing nearby, looked at him expectantly along with Crowley.

“Parties, for example,” he said, addressing the children. “I find birthday parties to be fun. Presents, magic tricks [he threw a warning look at Crowley _not_ to start in on him], cake, games—”

“More cake,” teased Crowley.

“Well, yes. But seriously, Crowley. It must be nice to have birthdays.” Aziraphale paused, furrowing his brow. “You know, in all my years I’ve never had a single birthday party.” He paused, plates in hand, looking into space wistfully.

“Because you’ve never had an actual birthday, angel. Because we weren’t exactly _born_. As for me, I wouldn’t know whether to celebrate my creation as an angel or the day I—well—you know….”

“Sauntered vaguely downward, my dear?”

“Exactly. Besides, I’ve gone to plenty of parties in my life. Gets a bit old, after awhile.” Crowley frowned, noticing the angel’s suddenly morose look. Aziraphale’s mood had gone from festive to dejected in a flash.

“Come on now, angel. What’s gotten into you? Who needs birthdays anyway?” said Crowley. “We can miracle up presents, cake and wine any time we want. Plus, look at the bright side—no birthdays, no nasty aging with the wrinkles and bursitis,” he reminded him.

“Still,” said Aziraphale, “It’s a very charming human custom. They mark each year with a festive gathering of friends and family. If you think about it, all our years just blend together, really. One long endless blur, year after year, decade after decade. Century after century. It’s a bit sad, isn’t it? I think it’s nice for people to have a day to mark every year, to celebrate—well…” he trailed, staring off into space.

Crowley frowned, puzzled by this new somber train of thought. What had gotten into the angel? “Cheer up, ‘Zira. We get invited to _this_ lot’s parties, so that’s four birthday parties a year. That’s plenty.” He gestured to the children.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right, my dear. I’m just being a silly and moody.” Aziraphale didn’t point out that the children would grow up and leave home one day, then grow old in time like all humans.

“You know, you’re right, Crowley dear. Listen, I’m rather tired. It’s been a nice party but I’d like to return to the bookshop, I think.”

“Okay, angel. Drive you home? I promise I’ll obey all traffic laws.”

“Very well. Let me just get all these dishes in the wash.” He looked down at the mess of plates in his hands. Washing all of them suddenly seemed too overwhelming. “You know, actually you were right, dear. Easier to clean them our way.” He set them down and miracled them sparkling clean. “Much better. Shall we be off, then?”

The whole drive back to the bookshop, Aziraphale barely spoke, staring out the window and only replying to Crowley’s remarks and jokes with a forced smile. 

Crowley was worried.

The next day at the bookshop, Crowley and Aziraphale sat having afternoon tea. Aziraphale had closed shop early and had remained in a pensive, almost somber mood the whole day.

“What’s wrong, angel?” asked Crowley. He was getting concerned. Where was the usual sparkle in the angel’s eyes? He was as glum as he’d been since yesterday’s party.

“Oh, nothing’s wrong, my dear, nothing at all,” he said a bit too quickly, with a forced smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Aziraphale, I’m a demon and I know when you’re lying. I can sense it. You’re not still on about the whole birthday thing, are you?”

“Birthday thing? Oh, you mean my silly moodiness at the party. No, no, of course not, my dear.” There was that forced smile again. “No, I’m just worried about—my books.”

“Your books?” asked Crowley, one eyebrow raised.

“Yes. Yes, you see, everything’s gotten disorganized because I haven’t done a proper inventory. Time just slips by and suddenly everything’s a mess.” There was that oddly distant expression on his face again, and he hadn’t touched his scone and tea. “I really must start working on it.”

Crowley knew the angel was still lying but he didn’t press it, not wanting to upset him further. 

Meanwhile, back in Tadfield, Adam gathered his three friends together at their base of operations in the woods. “Guys, at the end of my party yesterday did you see how sad Uncle Zira looked all of a sudden?”

Pepper nodded. “Brian and I overheard why. He’s sad because he and your Uncle Crowley don’t have birthdays.”

“So, no birthday _parties_, either,” added Brian.

“But that’s not very logical,” remarked Wensleydale. “Of course, they don’t have birthdays. They weren’t really born, were they? And they get to live forever. I’d like that instead of birthdays. It seems like a fair trade.”

“That’s kind of what Mr. Crowley said,” answered Pepper. “But then Mr. Fell went on about days blending into each other, celebrating time, and stuff I didn’t really understand.”

Adam frowned. He didn’t understand it either, but in any case he would have to fix this. Besides helping save the world, his honorary uncles had become a big part of his life. Over the past year they had offered advice (sometimes conflicting), fixed broken stuff, and a couple of times they’d even taken him flying.

“Well,” Adam said, “I think we should _do_ something about it. I mean, they’ve been around for over 6,000 years and not a single birthday? It’s not right.”

“I don’t think Mr. Crowley cares at all, but it would make your Uncle Zira really happy,” said Pepper.

“Six thousand is a lot of candles, though,” pointed out Brian. “They wouldn’t fit on a cake.” Everyone ignored this.

“Then it’s settled. We’ll have a surprise party for him,” Adam declared. The rest of The Them knew that when Adam declared something, it meant a new Project. But this time there was one big problem to start with.

“How do we know what day to have a birthday party if your uncle wasn’t even really born? We have to pick something logical. It can’t just be a random day, can it?” wondered Wensleydale. 

“I wonder if they have belly buttons?” asked Brian.

“Look,” said Pepper, shooting an exasperated look at Brian. “Either way, Adam’s right. We have to do a party. So how do we pick a good day? We could be sneaky about it, split up and just casually ask each of them questions.”

“We can’t just ask them,” said Brian. “They’ll know what we’re up to!”

“Actually, it makes perfect sense,” said Wensleydale. “They’ll just assume it’s childlike curiosity.”

“We’re not children,” huffed Pepper. “I just turned twelve, after all.”

Adam stepped in. “I know what we’ll do. Since Uncle Crowley doesn’t really care about a birthday, we don’t have to surprise _him_ with a party. He knows Aziraphale the best, so he’s the best one to help us figure out a good day. Those two have been best friends for over 6,000 years.”

“They’re _more_ than best friends,” said Pepper.

Adam rolled his eyes. “Anyway, we need to go talk to Crowley without Aziraphale around. We need to ask him some questions.”

“But can we trust a demon to keep a secret?” asked Wensleydale. “Demons aren’t very trustworthy.”

“Uncle Crowley’s not a _real_ demon,” said Adam. “He’s too nice. But don’t tell him I said that.”

He took out his new mobile phone and texted.

Crowley and Aziraphale finished their tea just as The Them were discussing when Aziraphale’s birthday might be, and whether they had belly buttons.

The angel had still hardly eaten, and Crowley uncharacteristically ate an entire scone just to try to tempt him into having something. The tactic had failed.

“I’m sorry, my dear. I think I’m going to go in the back room and look over some of my volumes to start that inventory. You go ahead and finish tea. I don’t seem to have much appetite today.” He rose slowly from the table and drifted off to the back room.

Now Crowley was growing alarmed. He’d never seen the angel so upset he’d lost his appetite—not even during the stressful events of the Almost-Apocalypse. He was brooding over the situation when he heard a small pinging noise coming from his pocket. It was a text alert. 

_Uncle Crowley, we need to meet with you. Just you. It’s urgent._

It was from Adam.

Crowley hopped in the Bentley and made the trip back to Tadfield in record time, having made some excuse to Aziraphale about needing to see a man about some plants. He felt uneasy leaving him alone. When he’d popped in the back of the bookshop to make his excuses, he’d found the angel with a book in front of him, but he was just staring into space again. Crowley had smiled at him and planted a little kiss on his curly blond head, and the angel had barely managed a smile. He was displaying the signs of what the humans called depression. Crowley just didn’t understand it. All because a blessed birthday party had given him some strange ideas.

Now he sat with The Them, perched uncomfortably on a log.

“Do you lot never meet in a café or anything?”

“Why would a group of kids meet in a café?” reasoned Pepper.

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Fair enough,” he said. “Listen, what’s this urgent meeting about, and why did you want just me and not Aziraphale? He’s—well, out of sorts today. I don’t like leaving him alone.”

“That’s just it,” said Adam. “We noticed it yesterday when he got all sad.”

“Brian and I overheard him talking about birthdays and parties,” chimed in Pepper.

Crowley sighed. “Yeah, I just don’t get it. He’s so worked up about it. I don’t understand why he’s so upset over not having birthdays. He’s even losing his appetite over it.”

Everyone was silent for a moment. 

Unexpectedly, Brian piped up. “I know why he’s so upset.”

They all turned to him, Pepper rolling her eyes a bit expecting a silly remark about cake.

“You guys have been around thousands and thousands of years,” said Brian. “You’ve seen everything happen—all of human history. For us, a whole year going by is a big deal. But for you two, a year must go by as quick as one of our days goes by for us. So like Mr. Fell was saying, one year just blurs right into the next. Sure, you can celebrate New Year’s to mark off every year, but it’s not the same as birthdays. Birthdays celebrate your _own_ time here on Earth, and why it matters that you’re here.”

Everyone stared at him, mouths open. Brian had nailed it. Of _course,_ that’s what it was. Crowley suddenly felt a wave of mild sadness washing over him. The kid was right.

“Well, what are we going to do about it?” he asked.

“We’re throwing him a surprise party, that’s what,” said Adam determinedly. “We just have to figure out when his actual birthday is. That’s why we asked you to meet with us, Uncle Crowley. What day should we pick?”

Crowley sighed. “I’m not sure. Obviously we weren’t actually born. Angels were created, so it’s a bit different for us.”

“Were demons created too?” asked Brian.

Adam reached over and lightly punched his arm, frowning. It was a sensitive topic for his uncle.

“It’s okay, kid,” said Crowley. “I was an angel too, to start with. But, I hung out with the wrong crowd, asked too many of the wrong questions I suppose, and—well, Down I went so to speak.”

He shook the memory of his Fall out of his head. “Look, I have an idea. Why don’t we pick the day Aziraphale started his stay here on Earth? It’s a much happier day to celebrate and it’s really when our lives started. I think Zira feels the same way about that as I do. We just have to figure out the math.”

Wensleydale raised his hand. “I believe I can help calculate that. Wasn’t the Earth created in October?”

“October 21,” said Adam. “In the morning.”

“Okay,” said Crowley, I didn’t even know that. But people didn’t come along right away. That was almost a week later, after all the fish and animals and stuff.”

“According to Genesis,” said Wensleydale, “God made everything by the end of the sixth day, then rested on the seventh. So let’s say we now we have October 27th.”

“Right,” said Crowley, “But Aziraphale got sent to guard the gate a couple of days _after_ that, closer to the time the humans got kicked out of the Garden. Because they—well, you know the story.” He coughed, avoiding eye contact with the kids. “Then I showed up a couple of days after Aziraphale.”

“Fascinating,” said Wensleydale. “We have October 29th for Mr. Fell, and—and the 31st for you, Mr. Crowley. Halloween!”

Crowley perked up at that. “Really? If I’d realized that all along, maybe I would’ve insisted on a party every year.” 

“Wait a second,” said Pepper. “It’s only August now. That means two months until we can give him a party.”

“I don’t think this can wait that long, guys,” said Crowley dejectedly. “You should see how he’s acting. It’s like the life’s gone out of him. I can’t see him like this for another two months.”

Adam stood up, going into Group Leader mode. “We won’t wait,” he declared. “He hasn’t had a birthday ever, so he can have his first party a little early this year. It’ll take us a week to put this together anyway, and we have school. So—next Sunday?”

Everyone nodded, Crowley agreeing to tempt Aziraphale out of the bookshop so the kids could set up for the party. “Though with the mood he’s been in, it may take all my demonic wiles,” he added.

Crowley dragged Aziraphale out of the shop just before lunch, over protests from the angel that he didn’t feel like going out and that he had to work on his inventory.

“You’re not shutting yourself in on a nice day like this, angel,” he said firmly. “Besssides,” he whined, going for puppy dog eyes as much as his actual snake eyes would allow, “I’m _bored_. And you promised me we’d try out that new ice cream shop as soon as it opened, and it opened last week. We can have a spot of lunch, then some ice cream. Plus there’s a concert in the park later today—and no, it isn’t ‘be-bop.’ I think it’s actually some Scottish fiddle band. Please, angel. Can’t I tempt you into a day of fun?” 

His pleading, combined with going on about ice cream and music, seemed to do the trick. Aziraphale heaved an exasperated sigh and managed an indulgent little smile. “Oh, very well, my dear. Temptation achieved. If you’re _that_ bored, I suppose we can make a day of it.”

Six hours later, Crowley and Aziraphale returned to the book shop. Crowley had endured the outdoor fiddle music while swatting away bugs, but it had been worth it to see Aziraphale’s mood lightened a little. He hoped everything was in place inside, and that the kids hadn’t botched everything. He’d texted Adam on their way back to get ready.

Aziraphale got his key out to unlock the book shop, but somehow the key wasn’t working properly. Crowley had silently miracled the lock to jam just enough to give the kids inside a warning to hide when they heard the key rattling. Finally the lock turned and Aziraphale opened the door. He stepped inside, Crowley swiftly slipping in past him.

“Surprise!!” Adam, Pepper, Brian and Wensleydale stood in in the center of the shop, all of them wearing party hats and huge smiles. The center of the shop had been cleared away and the place had been transformed. Colorful balloons floated everywhere and a huge banner was strung up which read, ‘Happy Birthday Aziraphale!’ There was a table adorned with a bright flowered tablecloth, and a pile of presents was stacked on a small table nearby.

Crowley grinned at the scene and turned toward Aziraphale. But his smile faded quickly. _Uh oh_, he thought. The angel stood with his mouth open, then shut it and—were those tears in his eyes? He panicked. Tears were not good.

“Angel, it’s a surprise party. Don’t you—”

“It’s wonderful!” exclaimed the angel, clapping and wriggling happily. He was literally beaming. The room suddenly grew brighter, as it always did when the angel was overjoyed. A wave of good feeling washed over everyone as celestial happiness overflowed from Aziraphale into the whole bookshop.

_Whew, tears of joy. Okay then_, thought Crowley.

“Crowley, you wily serpent, you tricked me to keep me out of here the whole day didn’t you? And all the while the children—well, I’m practically speechless!”

Crowley laughed. “It’s good to see you smiling again, angel.”

“It’s all lovely, my dear.” Then Aziraphale paused. 

“What is it, angel?”

“Well, just—it’s not really my birthday. We don’t have birthdays, you said so yourself.”

“Ah, but we have something just as good. The day you were sent to Earth. We did some minor calculations—”

“Actually I did the math,” chimed in Wensleydale.

“And we figured that your real true birthday should be the day you started your life here. So if the Earth was created on October 21, then give it seven days or so, your birthday is October 29th.”

Adam chimed in then. “And the cool part is Uncle Crowley didn’t show up for a couple of days after you did, so that would make his birthday Halloween!” 

“Pretty cool, eh angel?”

“Very fitting,” laughed Aziraphale. “But—and I don’t mean to be a spoilsport—it’s still only the end of August today.”

“Yes, well, next year we’ll celebrate on the _proper_ day. But we all thought since you’re owed over 6,000 birthdays we could kick it off a bit early this year.”

Aziraphale was speechless again. They had all this just to make him happy, just to snap him out of his sadness—a sadness that now didn’t even make sense to him. Not when he had so many people in his life that cared about him so much.

“Come on, angel. No getting all watery eyed again. There’s cake to eat.” Crowley planted a little kiss on his cheek and steered him over to the table.

“Look, Crowley, there are _two_ cakes on the table!”

And so there were. There was a white cake with a light icing drizzled over the top, and a luscious looking chocolate cake next to it. Each had a candle on it in the shape of a letter. The vanilla cake was adorned with an “A” and the chocolate one with a “C.”

“Angel food and devil’s food cakes, of course. We’re celebrating your birthday too, Uncle Crowley. Surprise!” said Adam. Brian brought out another small pile of gifts for the demon.

Crowley was flustered, something Aziraphale seldom ever saw and which was quite amusing. “Well, I’ll be blessed. Er, uh—thanks guys,” he managed. _The little sneaks_.

As soon as the two sat down, Pepper came over and plopped a ridiculous looking polka dot birthday hat on Aziraphale. Crowley laughed and pointed at the angel, and he was just about to make a comment when he felt his own multicolored birthday hat plop down on his head, Pepper snapping the cheap little elastic band under his chin.

“You too, Uncle Crowley,” grinned Adam. 

Crowley glared at him. Demons were _not_ supposed to wear silly hats.

And quick as a flash, Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s phone from where he’d set it on the table. He aimed it at Crowley and pressed the button.

The photo he took, of a scowling demon in a polka dot party hat, was priceless.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my third Good Omens fic, but my first non-smut.  
I felt sorry for Aziraphale being treated so badly at Warlock's party, and was thinking he should have a birthday party of his own.  
Comments make my day so if you liked it please drop a line!


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